


Someday

by MirrorMystic



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11112915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: They always knew he'd be back.





	Someday

**Author's Note:**

> Short, sweet, self-indulgent fluff. I love this family, and I hope you do, too.

~*~  
  
When Akira finally returns to Leblanc, he comes bearing gifts.  
  
Sojiro chuckles as he pulls the “#1 Dad” mug out of the brown paper wrapping, setting it down on the counter.  
  
“You know you’re not supposed to call me that,” Sojiro says, not unkindly. “Not until the paperwork goes through.”  
  
“I’m getting an early start,” Akira says, and smiles.  
  
Futaba appears at the bottom of the steps, a comically large cardboard box in her skinny arms. At the sight of Akira at the door, she drops the box in a jingling clatter of plastic and metal parts. She stares at him, breaking out into a grin.  
  
“Oh. My. God.” Futaba says, beaming. “That was _today_ ?!”  
  
Akira grins. “What, did you not check your phone?”  
  
“Shut up!” Futaba squeals. She waves him inside. “C’mon! Wait’ll you see what I did with your room!”  
  
She pounds up the steps on all fours, a smirking Akira following close behind.  
  
They curl up on the couch together. Akira asks Futaba about her latest masterpiece: the high-performance gaming PC that she’d built from scratch, now occupying the work table where he’d made lockpicks a lifetime ago. Futaba asks him about his time away.  
  
Futaba has much more enthusiasm for her pet project than Akira does for his entire senior year away from Tokyo. Despite Futaba’s barrage of questions, they all come back to the same answers.  
  
“How was it?” She asks, and he tells her:  
  
It’s over. Now, he’s home.  
  
There are some questions that go unasked. Things like ‘what did your parents say when you asked to go back’, or ‘did you even tell them you were leaving’, or ‘did they notice you were gone’. They hang, like motes of dust in the air- or they would have, if Futaba and Sojiro hadn’t kept this place spotless, as if they knew- had always known- that he would return.  
  
Futaba chatters, bombarding him with words as if they could pin him in place and keep him from leaving ever again. Eventually, her excited babbling dies down, until the comforting silence wraps around them as surely and snugly as Akira’s arm around her shoulders.  
  
Akira pats her head, and as he’s about to pull away, she grabs his wrist and pulls him back down. Like a cat, Akira muses.  
  
“So… you’re back?” Futaba asks, her voice heavy with things unsaid.  
  
Akira smooths her hair against her scalp.  
  
“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the part in her hair. “I’m back.”  
  
The closeness, the warmth, these are things Akira craves, having spent so long without them as he drifted, ghostlike, through his senior year.  
  
“Before I forget,” Akira says. “I got you something.”  
  
He pulls away, reaching for his luggage.  
  
Futaba has to fight the urge not to reach after him when he leaves, and clings to his arm when he returns. There’s a wordless fear, deep down, that any moment he pulls away could be the last time he does. The last time he did, he was gone for a whole year.  
  
It’s only when Akira drops the brown paper package onto her lap that Futaba remembers where he is; and that from now on, even if he isn't right there beside her, at least he won’t be too far away.    
  
~*~  
  
Someday, long after the rise and fall of the Phantom Thieves, Akira comes home. Sojiro is leaning against the bar counter, doing the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. A mug of piping hot coffee sits on the counter beside him, the white porcelain proudly touting him as a #1 Dad.  
  
Akira places a hand on the shock of red hair poking up out of a booth. Futaba leans into the touch, nuzzling his palm like a cat. She shoves aside her laptop, her studies forgotten, even though the exam for high school equivalency is only days away.  
  
Futaba slides over so Akira can sit beside her, and Sojiro sets a mug of coffee down in front of him. Akira greets him with a polite nod. Sojiro nods back, and goes back to his paper.  
  
Futaba rests her head on Akira’s shoulder. She’s dressed unusually brightly today- in a sunny, pastel yellow, the words ‘I DON’T WORK HERE’ printed across her chest.  
  
“Nice shirt,” Akira teases.  
  
“It was a gift,” Futaba says, and smiles.  
  
~*~


End file.
